


Quill Pals

by dendraica



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Tuff is a ray of sunshine and a downpour of fluffy kittens all wrapped up in a rainbow, enemies to sort-of-friends, loose theory on how he knew to use Terror Mail before Hiccup taught him to train Shattermaster, much to Dagur's utter confusion, pre-redemption!Dagur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 14:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: Dagur is completely bewildered (and more than a little enraged) that one of the Riders keeps asking for a Snoggletogg present. Is absolutely nothing sacred?





	Quill Pals

Dagur stared at the parchment in his hands, expression extraordinarily dumbfounded. One of the Riders had just … Terror-mailed him a _letter_?

The Terror was even still hanging around - just out of reach and ridiculously good at avoiding thrown knives. Almost like it was waiting for a response to this _drivel_. He’d of course spent a good portion of time over-analyzing it. Was it a distraction? The set-up for a trap? It wasn’t from Hiccup and it didn’t ask him to meet him anywhere though.

Nope, just inane babbling from one member of Hiccup’s little dragon-loving Greek Choir. There was nothing to really do but tear it up and throw it overboard. Which he almost did, but Savage stopped him.

"If you don’t mind me suggesting, sir, this could be an opportunity? Write back and tell the boy to meet you alone if he really wants an … “ Savage peered over Dagur’s shoulder to re-read the lines that had his leader so flustered. “An arrow-launcher for Snoggletogg . . .?"

“Arrow-launcher! As if I’d actually send anyone else a Berserker crafted arrow-launcher for anything, let alone for -” Dagur paused, mid-tirade. “Wait, _is_ it Snoggletogg today?”

Savage shook his head. “Not for four more months sir.”

Dagur scowled, but made his decision and stormed toward his cabin. “Nobody disturb me and leave that Terrible Terror alone. I’m writing a response.”

——-

_Dear Blithering Dragon-Rider Idiot #1,_

_**OF COURSE IM NOT SENDING YOU AN ARROW-LAUNCHER FOR SNOGGLETOGG, YOU COMPLETE MORON!** Why in Loki’s name WOULD I?!? I cannot believe you’d even DARE ASK ME for such a thing?! Are you serious?!? _

_Can’t you ask your parents?!?! I heard you can get a pretty nice selection at the Northern Market. None as close to the quality on my ship, so I guess you’ve got decent taste, but still - DON’T YOU EVER, **EVER** ASK ME FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN. _

_It seriously weirded me out._

_\- DAGUR THE DERANGED_

_P.S. And I hope your tree catches fire!!!!_

—–

“There, I sent it.” Dagur and Savage both watched as the Terror flew off, disappearing soon in the fog that surrounded the Berserker armada.

"What did you write?” asked Savage, nosey as ever.

“What do you _think_?!” Dagur snapped. “I told that Rider where he could shove his stupid request!”

"Ah, very good, sir."

And that was the end of it, until the next letter came.

——

_Dear Dagur the Deranged,_

_Wow, I had no idea you would be so offended? Sorry. You’re always offering Hiccup stuff and he doesn’t appreciate it, so I figured I could use some of that misplaced affection to fulfill both our emotional needs._

_And also my need for a **totally awesome** arrow-launcher. _

_You sure you don’t have a spare one? Or a broken one I can fix that’s just taking up space on your ship? I promise I won’t mind if it’s a wreck, just put a festive little bow on it or something. It’s the thought that counts, right?_

_Ooh, but besides all that, do you worship Loki too? I’m so happy to hear that if it’s so - it fits you! **You’re** clever and devious, **He’s** clever and devious … If you ever want to talk trickster gods and their frustrating yet endearing ways of making life interesting - then I, Tuffnut Thorston, am at your service._

_Also, thanks for the tip about the Northern Markets, but if my parents actually liked me enough to get me one, they’d probably make me share it with my sister. Do you KNOW how hard it is for two people to work the same massively destructive weapon at the same time? Trust me, the projectiles **do** **not** **go** where you want them to. Just ask Sven’s sheep. We all had to eat a lot of mutton that night. It was good too; I still don’t get why the Chief was so mad._

_Anyway, I hope your tree catches fire too! We set ours on fire every year, as a tribute to that time Astrid decimated almost everybody’s house with exploding dragon eggs. Our parents will get used to it eventually, and hopefully it'll be a time-honored tradition that spreads to other families._

_Have a Happy Snoggletogg! (I’m wishing you one early, in case you manage to kill us all before it gets here. Hopefully with an arrow launcher because that would be ironic and kind of funny.)_

_See you on the battlefield!_

_\- Tuffnut Thorston  
_

_P.S. What would **you** like for Snoggletogg, assuming we all live to see it? I probably can’t afford to steal anything fancy, but I can always write you another poem._

——

Dagur was enraged. Livid. Also, more confused than ever.

This had to be some sort of trick. Why was this crazy Rider still talking to him? It was like having a prisoner you just couldn’t make shut up.

Or resist talking back to. 

What he should do was crumple this stupid parchment up and throw it over the side. But then that Terror would hang around all day and annoy him. 

Dagur growled and ignored the strange look Savage gave him, as he ordered the man to find him better parchment and some more ink.

He didn’t write letters that much; but he wasn’t about to send something smudged and tattered back to this dumb kid. Maybe if he wrote completely bluntly and in big letters, the Rider would get that they were enemies.

Not _friends_. Not … _quill_ _pals_.

—–

_Dragon Rider,  
_

_You seem to be **confused** , so let me help you out here.   
_

_I’m not sending you anything for Snoggletogg, and I don’t want anything from you either. Thanks for the offer, but we are enemies. That means I want to **kill** you and your buddies and all your little dragon friends, including your **stupid Terror** that keeps dodging my knives! Actually if you wanted to send me anything, send me more knives. I’ve lost at least three over the side because of that thing. Who knew they could be so fast?!  
_

_Seriously, write to me again asking for **anything** , and I’ll blow up your entire house the next time I attack Berk.  
_

_\- Dagur the Deranged_

—–

_Dear Dagur,  
_

_Okay, I get it. I won’t ask for anything for Snoggletogg._

_Just surprise me.  
_

_Some knives are totally coming your way, though. Nice ones too, with polished antler handles and sharp edges. The merchant almost sold them out from under me, but I distracted him by pointing out a really awesome rainbow and snagged you four._

_Also, if you want to blow up my house, feel free - you’d be doing us all a favor. It’s a total mess. I’ve been begging the local dragons to ‘accidentally’ torch it, but Hiccup keeps stopping me. It’s a shame; my mom would get a new house built and new furniture, so she wouldn’t have to clean for a while. She **hates** cleaning. Gets it from me. _

_Oh and I guess Pop would have to drink his mead out in the sunshine. Or the rain. He could use a quick rinse either way, he’s gotten kinda ripe since I last visited. Pshh, Dads today, am I right?_

_Anyway, that last letter was so serious. Dare I say melancholy? You sounded like you could use some cheering up, so I wrote you a poem._

_I know it’s not Snoggletogg yet, but I’m sure we’ve missed your birthday by now, anyway. (Hey when is your birthday? Let me know.)_

_Here’s the poem:_

**There once was a rider named Hic,  
Whose tyranny would make you sick  
Though love him we will,  
And we follow him still,  
Sometimes he can be a real prick**

——

Dagur snorted and started laughing out loud, causing a few heads to turn. He quickly caught himself and glared them back to work before turning back to the letter in his hands.

He had _meant_ to get rid of it this time, really. But it had just been so boring today. 

He had to admit, the kid had some nice poetry. Also, the thought that he had an actual belated (or was it early?) birthday gift coming his way honestly thrilled him - especially if it was stolen.

Because buying things with money and prestige? Boring! As a chieftain’s son, expensive gifts had always felt like people were sucking up to him, so whatever it was had no meaning really.

But this do-gooder dragon-rider had actually broken the law (and definitely had gone against Hiccup’s wishes) just to get him a nice gift.

That was … That was just so … _thoughtful_?

He bit his lip, a little conflicted, but then shook his head to clear it. If someone was wanting to be nice to him, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean he had to be nice in return. 

But maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything to keep writing back.

—–

_Rider,  
_

_Thanks. That poem was actually pretty funny. I’ll accept those knives too, since you’re technically just paying me back for the ones I lost. I hope you don’t expect anything big in return, like mercy or extra food rations when I eventually kill and capture you all._

_I’m no good with poetry … but maybe you’d like a story or something? I know some pretty scary ones. Ooh, I bet you can make that big kid with the Gronckle scream like a little girl!  
_

_My birthday is the 15th of September.  
_

_Regards, Dagur the Deranged_

_P.S. When’s yours? Maybe I’ll just try extra hard not to kill you that week._

—–

Well, it wasn’t anything he’d brag about to his men, Dagur thought, watching the Terror fly off. But maybe being quill-pals with the enemy wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

 

 

\- end


End file.
